


help!! i tried running into the woods to escape my depressing life and instead got spirited away into a parallel timeline full of littles and bigs!?

by devilishMendicant



Series: koi's ddlc baby fics (aka the magical ballpit) [9]
Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Littles and Bigs, Caregiver!Natsuki, Caregiver!Sayori, Caregiver!Yuri, Classification AU, Isekai'd, Little!Monika, Medical Examination, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, Scent Marking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29257695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilishMendicant/pseuds/devilishMendicant
Summary: (wait, don't isekai titles kind of serve as a summary all on their own?)Monika... tries to escape her depressing life by dropping everything and running off into the woods, but ends up being spirited away into a parallel universe where humans can be classified as Littles and Bigs. Really, it's all right there in the title.Oh, right. She doesn't know what either of those things *are* - and, as luck would have it, this new universe has decided she's a Little.Oops.
Relationships: Monika & Natsuki & Sayori & Yuri (Doki Doki Literature Club!), Natsuki/Sayori/Yuri (Doki Doki Literature Club!)
Series: koi's ddlc baby fics (aka the magical ballpit) [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713370
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> look, fellas, you all know that both i and the bulk of my writing are going to be firmly lodged into the "ddlc ageplay aus" ao3 ecological niche until i die. so i'm here to embrace it.   
> classification isekai, bitches, come get it while it's hot
> 
> Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings note: as you could maybe expect from a surprise-classification fic, a lot of the babying being done to the main character is not (at first) strictly consensual. if that narrative snag thoroughly yucks your yum, please do steer clear of this fic.
> 
> (chapters may be added in a non-linear fashion.)

“I, l-like your perfume,” Monika croaks, and  _ immediately _ wishes that she hadn’t.

For one thing, what a  _ weird _ fucking thing to say to a  _ doctor. _ Horrible and ridiculous and embarrassing - not that the statement was actually any more embarrassing than seeing a doctor while sitting on your... acquaintance’s lap,  _ or _ any more embarrassing than seeing a doctor while clad in the  _ dumbest _ most childish short pajama set you’ve laid eyes on in your entire life, but it sure wasn’t helping matters even if said doctor didn’t seem to think anything at  _ all _ was odd about Monika’s observation.

“Aw, thanks,” he says, mildly and quite pleasantly - there’s...  _ something _ in his tone that makes the mortified blush creeping up around the back of Monika’s neck bite just that extra bit harder, but it’s when he  _ continues _ his statement:

“Yours is quite nice as well. Now, I heard you’ve been having a little trouble with your skin, is that right?”

That Monika’s train of thought (stretched thin as paper as it is) grinds to a  _ screeching _ halt.

She isn’t  _ wearing _ any perfume. She’s been in the  _ woods _ for the past— month?  _ Two? _ This— unnervingly cheerful doctor’s office is the second building she’s been in, total, and the first was...

... m,  _ maybe _ it’s because of the stop they’d made at Yuri’s house. Yuri’s-Natsuki’s-Sayori’s-house, that... that would  _ kind _ of make sense, wouldn’t it? These  _ were _ clothes from  _ their _ house (for whatever reason they had them) - she  _ had _ fallen asleep in one of  _ their _ beds. Surely...  _ surely, _ the sensible answer to this was that she just smelled rather blatantly like she’d been in the home of somebody who really had a thing for diffusers and, well, perfume. Yeah. That’s it.

... ah. Monika tunes back in a little too late, it seems, because the doctor’s already talking over her head.

“Well, I’m sure you can see...” Yuri is saying,  _ exceedingly _ carefully tracing a line around one of the angriest-looking rashes on Monika’s arm (though that hardly prevents her from wincing). The doctor sucks in a sympathetic breath, nodding. 

“Ahh, that does look painful. Has she recently been in incompatible clothing?”

“Due to extenuating circumstances,” Yuri says, carefully. “For at least...”

“At least a couple weeks?” Sayori chimes in.

“...  _ all _ her clothing?”

Monika does not even need to look up to see the grimace in the doctor’s tone. To be fair, she’s been doing an awful lot of grimacing too - it’s  _ her _ body covered in searing-sore, angry red blotches for reasons apparently related to her clothes, which naturally had presented no troubles  _ before _ all this stupid universal-displacement nonsense; and she still hasn’t quite made up her mind whether to be utterly relieved that this Sayori, Yuri and Natsuki had  _ mysteriously _ known what to do to (somewhat) relieve that pain, or to be utterly unsettled by that prescient knowledge.

“All her clothing,” Yuri confirms, and. Well. The ill-fated attempt at a bath earlier had illustrated well enough to Monika why her tone should be so somber. 

... though... now that she’s been given a proper chance to slow down and think some of this through. What  _ exactly _ are they here at a  _ doctor’s _ office for? The three girls Monika kinda-sorta-not-really-knew already seemed to know what the problem was, if not the unfortunate severity around some very extremely tender unmentionable areas. And Yuri had said something about a medicated bath, somewhere in between re-dressing Monika (as little as possible) and Monika dozing off -  _ that _ didn’t sound like something you needed to visit a medical professional for. That was… over-the-counter fare, wasn’t it? 

“Hey, hey. What’s the matter?”

Monika zones back into an awareness of her surroundings to realize she has been staring at Natsuki and looking  _ increasingly _ distressed, which, Natsuki seems to have taken to mean ‘please hold my hand’ and bravely gone and done just that. Angling her gaze downwards towards where Natsuki is running her thumb over Monika’s knuckles... is not really making her feel much less distressed, but it does feel nicer than staring into space and panicking all by herself. Weird, that she could still feel all alone in a roomful of people. 

“Honey,” the doctor says, lightly (and mercifully) tapping the top of Monika’s head, “Would you like to come sit up on the checkup table for me, please?”

“N-No.”

Monika’s voice is still very sore from the pained, embarrassed, confounded crying she has been doing very recently - and the sudden and current threat of being poked at for unknown reasons by an unknown person in an unknown place in an unknown  _ version of reality _ is making tears prickle at the corners of her aching eyes all over again. 

“Thank y-you,” she adds, whispery and faint - in case that had sounded rude. “N-No th— thank you.”

“Ah, very good manners,” the doctor chuckles, stepping back a bit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how much your poor feet must be hurting. If you may, Miss... ?”

“Nakahara,” Yuri says, before— wait wait wait no no no, she starts putting her arms under Monika as if she’s going to pick her up again, no,  _ no no no _ hold on hold on  _ hold on _ \- “Okay, dearheart, let’s—“

_ ”N-No!” _

Monika would be more embarrassed over how that came out as a  _ squeal _ more than a firm (if panicked) declaration, but she’s a bit too busy shaking like a leaf and clinging to Yuri for dear life to be concerned about how she sounded. Natsuki startles, frowning sympathetically even as Monika screws her eyes shut, burying her face in the side of Yuri’s neck as if she could hide there.

“Oh—  _ sweetheart, _ you’re okay,” Yuri says, laying a hand over Monika’s back as gently as she possibly could, but - Monika fell for that exactly  _ once, _ before getting hot water (okay,  _ warm _ water) hosed down in almost a total stranger’s bathroom, and she is not about to fall for it again  _ in a doctor’s office.  _ No.  _ No.  _ She is  _ not _ going to be put down on a checkup table, she is going to sit here and cling onto Yuri and her appreciable jasmine perfume like a frightened marsupial and  _ damn _ however silly she looked. She has had,  _ enough, _ for one day.

_ (“... oh dear. She wouldn’t happen to have any sort of comfort... ?”) _

_ (“E-Extenuating circumstances...”) _

_ (“Well, there must be something available— ah, you know, I think we have something. One moment.”) _

If Monika was liable to hear anything over the blood rushing in her ears, then she might have been some kind of suspicious about the doctor’s purposeful exit from the room - unfortunately, she couldn’t. Beyond her own anxious white noise, Yuri had decided to try humming a gentle tune rather than chiming in on the conversation, so Monika’s perception was quite wholly occupied with the warmth, nice smell and soft melody all generated by the woman carefully holding her.

Which... wasn’t...  _ terrible. _ It wasn’t  _ ideal, _ no, but it wasn’t... awful. Even though the imminent threat of being doctored upon was still looming over her, it seemed at least a bit further away, and - well - being rocked and hummed to felt nice. Very simply. Monika was even starting to feel a little bit melty by the time unfamiliar footsteps re-entered the room behind her, which - in retrospect - is probably the cause of her reaction time being just dulled  _ enough _ for the following events to occur:

Yuri making a small, understanding noise at  _ something _ going on behind Monika’s head, before tipping her back and slightly off of her chest,

A gloved hand entering her field of vision for precisely  _ two _ entire seconds, during which Monika could discern nothing about the object it was holding until it was pushed into her mouth,

And Yuri pressing her (carefully) back into her previous position - face pressed into and hidden against her neck -  _ just _ in time for Monika to realize, in a single shocked moment, that what is now  _ trapped _ inside her mouth is a  _ pacifier. _

“Ohhhh I don’t think she’s gonna like th—“

_ ”NNNNH!” _

Monika hopes  _ everyone _ winces about the  _ utterly indignant _ noise she just made, because they all quite frankly  _ deserve to. _

A pacifier. A pacifier! For  _ babies _ ! An infantile object used to  _ shut up infants! _ No matter  _ how much _ she’d cried today over fairly ridiculous things -  _ from stress thank you very much _ \- or how  _ stupid _ these pajamas looked on her— or— or  _ anything _ else, she was  _ not—! _

“Jeez, dude, you made her cry again!” Natsuki snaps, which is what alerts Monika to the angry tears spilling down over her own face. “What’d you go and do that for?!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, does she not take a pacifier?” The doctor says, which would  _ almost _ have made Monika’s tears stop cold, if, not for the fact it was a bit out of her control in the first place. “The pattern of her injuries would suggest her to be somewhere in the 24 months range, if that.”

And Yuri  _ freezes. _ Natsuki  _ hesitates. _

“... uh,” she says, rubbing awkwardly at her arm. “N-No, you’re... I think you just surprised her big-time. She’s having  _ kind of _ a rough day, if you haven’t noticed?”

(Monika stares  _ mutinously.) _

“Ah,” the doctor says, possibly nodding, “I apologize. The little ones tend to spit them out before they notice what’s on them, you see.”

“Oh,” Natsuki mumbles. 

“Here, Miss - ah - Kimura. I’m sure this will do well enough as a soother when properly scented.”

“Ahh, it’s so soft!”

... no, no, go back.  _ What _ was on the stupid baby pacifier?! Monika shivers in Yuri’s arms, tears leaking hopelessly down her cheeks as her mouth traitorously gives the rubber teat lodged in it a hesitant suck. Whatever  _ was _ on it was... gelatinous, to put it mildly. Nearly downright  _ sticky, _ and with that weird off-taste of too-sweet that she faintly remembers from ear infections and brightly-colored medicine. At least it isn’t  _ bitter _ \- not that that small concession stops her from letting out another heartbroken whimper, squirming as much as didn’t hurt against her  _ captor’s _ grip (since Monika was fairly, bitterly certain that friends don’t let friends get weird concoctions stuck in their mouths in strange medical offices).

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” Yuri murmurs, sounding... at least decently, genuinely sorry about it. “It’s only to help you get better, that’s all,”

Rash ointment, Monika has noted, is not  _ typically _ orally applied.

She isn’t completely certain how long she cries against Yuri’s neck - she doesn’t have much energy left in her in the first place, and by the time she feels like shedding any more tears would be like squeezing blood from a stone, her tongue has been absently working at the pacifier for long enough that the feeling is no longer entirely foreign, and her head is starting to feel muzzy in a way... not  _ entirely _ unlike post-cry tiredness, but not entirely  _ like _ it, either. Not that she gets very long to dwell on it. Once the last of her hiccuping sob-shakes died away, Yuri had carefully returned her to her original sitting position - oh, wow, that was... dizzying - and... something soft and green is deposited on her lap. How odd.

Nobody seems much interested in talking  _ to _ her, no, the doctor’s gone right over her head again - so she reaches down for the soft thing herself, grip feeling much clumsier than usual, and to her surprise it seems that the thing is a  _ blanket. _ A very, _ very _ soft blanket with a smooth, shiny trim that you could,  _ probably, _ call a baby blanket...

... but it didn’t hurt her arms when it brushed against the bare, irritated skin there, and it was  _ hideously _ fluffy and soft, and it was even green which she knows she hasn’t told anybody was her favorite color and, well, Monika is just too tired and too weirdly muddled to look a gift horse in the mouth. Raising it up to her face for a cuddle (because frankly she feels like she deserves one nice feeling in all this), the first thing she realizes - besides that it is exactly as soft and fluffy on her cheek as it is in her hands - is that it  _ smells like Sayori and Natsuki and Yuri, _

E-Er, their perfume, at least. That wasn’t what  _ they _ smelled like, even though that was what her brain had filled in for her. Regardless, it smells sweet and floral and sugary and breezy and  _ familiar, _ and she can’t help the impulse to hug it tighter to herself. Gosh. What kind of weird doctor’s office gave away presents like  _ this? _

“Awww, d’you like that, sunshine?”

Sayori’s voice sounds  _ very _ ooey-gooey, even by the not very high standards she has set today, but Monika... cannot find it in her to care. Her new blanket is soft, and it smells good, and she feels very foggy and kind of funny and she doesn’t want to be annoyed that Sayori is being so mushy. Maybe Monika  _ should _ be mushed-over. She has  _ owies, _ after all, and nobody seems to be in a very big hurry to fix them.

“... eh? Suuuuunshiiiine...”

A tiny giggle bubbles up from behind Monika’s pacifier as Sayori waves a hand in front of her face. Silly. She’s  _ clearly _ looking right  _ at _ her, and, see, now Sayori can tell because she’s smiling. She also tugs lightly on the ring of Monika’s pacifier, but - why would she do that? Monika just blinks slowly and quizzically at her, mouth very pointedly hanging onto the very nice sucky thing in it. 

“I guess you like that too, huh?” Sayori half-laughs, looking a little bit amused and a little bit worried about something. “That’s... what that does?”

“You’d be surprised how many little ones have some form of anxiety around medical appointments; nothing out of the ordinary, but best we keep something on hand for it.” The doctor says, smiling nicely down at Monika who hides a little bit in her new blanket. He  _ looked _ nice, but Monika can kind of remember being mad at him a minute ago, and that was... maybe important? Mmmmaybe. She blinks again, much heavier this time as she leans against Yuri - her ouches don’t feel as ouchy right now and that’s nice because that means she can sag in real close and...

“Miss Nakahara, I think you can bring her up to the table now,” the doctor says cheerfully, though Monika hardly notices. She’s a little bit busy rubbing her new blankie up against the tip of her nose, because it feels so nice, and also making squeezy fists in the air because  _ that _ feels really funny. How come her hands feel so funny? Did something happen? It’s dizzy when she suddenly goes up in the air but then Yuri’s laying her down gently and it’s kind of fine, kind of reminds her of when she had a nap earlier after being rinsed off, which was kinda ouchy and kinda blushy because she accidentally peed but no one thought that was bad and Sayori helped her ouches feel less ouch with nice cream and, uhh... 

... uhh... 

Monika clings a little more to her blankie and sucks a little harder on her pacifier. Why... was she on the table? Is it because someone’s taking off her—  _ hey! _

“Ssh-ssh-sh-shhh,” Yuri coos, doing the nice rubby thingy with Monika’s hand that she’s holding. “You’re okay, sweetie. Just worry about me, okay?”

... why would Monika be worried about Yuri? She’s nice. She’s holding Monika’s hand so nice, and her nice smell is all over Monika’s blankie and that feels so safe, even though - owwwww - there’s poking on her owiest owie parts which still feels very ouch even though Monika is a little bit floating away. Yuri makes a soft sorry noise and - and  _ ow, _ there’s a  _ sharp _ poke, and she doesn’t like being poked!

“Miss Nakahara, it would be alright if the little one took a bit of a nap for this.”

“Ah,” Yuri says, understandingly, and, there’s no more pokes for a minute. That’s very nice. Monika squirms tiredly as Yuri squeezes her hand, and thinks maybe that -

“Darling, are you feeling sleepy?”

It’s really really hard to keep her eyes open so much, especially because it’s so bright, and yeah she feels sleepy, really really sleepy, almost like kinda she cried a whole bunch and then got a soft blankie and a cuddle and now she’s lied down again and having such a nice pacifier. Yuri smiles at her and pets along her forehead and, Monika sighs and blinks very heavy and rubs her blankie up against her face and...

“There you go, sweetheart. Such a brave girl.”

Monika feels kind of...  _ proud, _ being called... brave, and...

... drifts off into sleep with a warm, content feeling in her chest. 

(Completely oblivious to both the doctor’s look of deep concern,  _ and _ the beginning of a long conversation to the three currently-conscious about  _ infection.) _


	2. Chapter 2

“... Yuri,” Sayori says, eyes widening very slowly - as if she has  _ finally _ just come to a conclusion to a truth that has been evading her for ages. “Yuri. Yuri, we have a  _ baby.” _

She turns towards the woman in the driver’s seat, breath seemingly caught in her throat.  _ ”Yuri.” _

“Sayori.”

_ ”Yuri!” _

“Sayori,” she replies, again, trying  _ very _ hard to keep her voice even and her eyes on the road but - can’t help but glance over at Sayori’s gradually-dawning, utterly  _ euphoric _ expression.

“We have a  _ baby!” _

“We  _ do,” _ Yuri hums. She’d come to this conclusion a bit earlier, but her girlfriend’s exuberance was drawing out another smile all the same. “For right now, at least.”

“Yuri. Oh my  _ gosh. _ Yuri oh my gosh oh my god. Yuri we have a  _ baby.” _

“You have a  _ sleeping _ baby,” Natsuki grumbles from the vicinity of the backseat, “And you’d better keep her that way.”

“Eep! Sorry,” Sayori whispers - exaggeratedly - turning back in her seat and squirming with such  _ brimming _ enthusiasm that even Natsuki couldn’t keep herself from a huff of a half-laugh, Yuri reaching over to squeeze her hand groundingly.

_ ”Sleeping _ baby,” she reminds Sayori, but - smiling. “A  _ very _ cute sleeping baby.”

“OhmygodYuriIjustcan’t—“ 

Sayori buries her face in her (free) hand for a moment, taking one deep shaking breath.

“... no more red tape!” She squeaks, finally.

“No more red tape. Godwilling.”

“No more interviews!”

“No more interviews, knock on wood.”

Sayori carelessly taps the inside of the passenger’s door with loose knuckles. “No more— oh my god, no more ‘oh we’re so sorry we just don’t think you’re a good  _ fit’—“ _

“—the second they put it together there’s three of us in the house,” Yuri chuckles, more than a tad bitterly. “Yes. No more.”

“No adoption fee, either,” Natsuki says, jabbing at the back of Sayori’s seat with the tip of her sneaker. “Beat that.”

“Ohhhhh my god,” she sighs, “Oh my god you’re  _ right. _ Oh. My god.”

“Odd how much less mentally taxing it is to pick up strange Littles in the state park than it is to adopt above-board.”

“... up until she has to go to daycare. Or get her shots. Or board an airplane.”

“Let Sayocchan have this, Natsuki, look at her. She’s practically sprouted a tail with which to wag.”

“I feel like we just got visited by the  _ stork!” _ Sayori enthuses (either oblivious to or intentionally ignoring her girlfriends’ side conversation), squirming around in her seat again to turn her joyfully glittering gaze onto the Little strapped in the backseat of the car, beside Natsuki - still quite deeply asleep, it seemed, gifted blanket pressed up against her cheek and similarly-gifted pacifier nearly dropped out onto it, emitting a tiny snore every so often.

“... Sayo, you look like you’re gonna  _ cry.” _

“We have a  _ baby,” _ Sayori replies,  _ again _ \- “We really  _ do, _ we— we’ve been working so hard and trying  _ so much _ and we just, and she’s so  _ cute, _ and—“

“Oh jeez,” Natsuki mutters as Sayori trails off into a sniffling fit (Yuri comfortingly squeezing her hand) that sounds an  _ awful _ lot like she’d just gotten completely and totally choked up over the sheer notion of having a Little. Sort-of, and finally, in that exact order. 

Natsuki rolls her eyes. Sure, she’s a  _ bit _ emotional over it too, but she’s also well-aware that there’s going to be some...  _ extreme, unique, _ and  _ extremely unique _ (maybe even  _ uniquely extreme) _ challenges surrounding caring for a  _ completely _ unidentifiable mystery Little who came stumbling out of the woods with nothing to her but a name and some terribly incompatible clothes - not even factoring in the way she seemed to balk at fairly standard Little fare in the first place. If above-board adoption was getting a pound puppy,  _ this _ was like fishing a kitten out of a storm drain and hoping for the best.

... not that she wasn’t hoping for the best, herself. If not for her own sake, or even for sappy old Sayori’s, then at  _ least _ for the kid’s sake. The last thing a pile of skin and bones and rashes and skittishness needs is  _ trust issues _ on top of all that.

And they  _ had _ promised to help her.

“Jeez. Just listen to those two dummies,” Natsuki mumbles, petting over the knuckles on the kid’s hand like she had earlier on - smiling just a  _ bit _ as the Little sighs in her sleep, sinking a little further into the seat she’s strapped into. “Getting so excited over bringing you home that they’re tearing up about it... what a couple of sentimental old ladies, huh?”

The baby (the  _ baby _ \- Natsuki can’t get over that. 24  _ months, max?) _ remains, of course -  _ thankfully, _ even, blissfully asleep.

(But she hopes,  _ very _ much, that somehow, somewhere, she can tell how much she already means to them.)

* * *

Monika is  _ exhausted. _ Capital E.

She guesses that whatever was on that pacifier was a hypnotic. Not exactly hard to tell, since she stops remembering things somewhere around  _ ”ooh blankie” _ and starts remembering things somewhere around waking up being carried back into the house by Yuri. This  _ does _ mean, at least, that she didn’t have to sit through the rest of the doctor’s appointment. She’ll take the silver lining where she can get it.

But  _ god, _ everything  _ else. _

Monika is wearing new pajamas. No, these ones are not pajamas that a grown adult would wear, either. There are teddy bears in nightcaps and smiley little moons scattered all over them, and her request for  _ anything else, like, dear god maybe a bathrobe? _ was met with...

...  _ confusion. _

_ Genuine, _ complete, total  _ bafflement. _

Which is, she thinks, the worst part.

Look - if they were  _ annoyed, _ she’d understand. It’s practically a hostage situation (that, granted, she did willingly walk into at the tantalizing offer of cupcakes, several weeks into barely subsisting off of ‘any plant that did not make her puke’) and, well, those kinda  _ have _ to be fucked-up somehow, it’s basically the law. She could even understand some bit of regretful ‘sorry, nothing in your size but baby clothes for whatever weird reason’ or maybe even just being flat-out  _ ignored _ (a reality she was  _ used _ to, by this point in her life) but no. No. They had just been...

...  _ confused. _

Not even frustratedly - just, patiently (and rather  _ kindly, _ all considered) confounded. That Monika would want other clothes, would want  _ more adult-ish _ clothing specifically. Yuri had dropped an incredibly disarming kiss on her forehead and called her— little. (And silly.)

Little. Little ones. What did that  _ mean? _ Monika was no smaller than she had been the day she’d taken off like a shot into the woods - well - actually, weirdly, she was a  _ tiny bit _ smaller, but not very noticeably (in her opinion) and certainly not to where she’d expect  _ Natsuki _ to call  _ her  _ **_little._ **

And the smell situation. That was even more unnerving. She couldn’t... she could  _ not _ pass this off as perfume. She might  _ want _ to, to save herself the sanity, but she just couldn’t - not after seeing Sayori rub Monika’s new blanket (that she was certainly normally, reasonably attached to) against that one special, strongly-scented neck point,  _ purposefully, _ and passing the blankie—  _ blanket _ back freshly-smelling like a sunny, peachy meadow.

You’d think a normal person would have lightly misted it with perfume, had they been wearing any.

But no - the neck. The neck and  _ wrists, _ weirdly, it seemed, and - to Monika’s absolute  _ mortification _ \- it seemed she was not exempt from this baffling new universal law. Monika, according to Sayori’s gushing, Yuri’s fond remarks, and Natsuki’s light teasing, smelled like a caramel mocha. If the universe had not intended that as a  _ direct, _ snide reference to her former existence and her favorite concoction, she’d eat one of these stupid cartoony pajama sets. With gusto.

But really, the part of all of this that was -  _ weighing _ on her back to the point where here she was, laying on the floor of Sayori’s room like a puddle of muck, was how... 

Was  _ how. _

They were all treating her so  _ carefully. _ So  _ gently. _ Before she’d never heard a single one of her acquaintances even drop a  _ nickname, _ much less a saccharine  _ pet name _ and Monika barely knows these ones any more than the first. And it’s been  _ nothing _ but pet names, cajoling, gentle hands even on un-irritated skin and humming, and carrying -  _ carrying. _ Where on god’s green Earth had Sayori found the upper body strength to  _ carry Monika? _

All of this. The pajamas, the blanket, the - christ, that was right, they kept the  _ pacifier _ (thankfully inert) too - pet names the  _ petting _ the  _ extremely _ hands-on rash and  _ urinary infection _ care, which isn’t cruel by any means don’t get her  _ wrong _ but it sure is  _ unnervingly kind and overly-familiar _ and she’s sure there’s some kind of Lovecraftian word for the blow one’s grip on sanity takes when they’re crying in a very soft stranger’s very soothing grip, because they’re being  _ very _ painfully rinsed by another very soft and very apologetic stranger, and said painful rinse is causing them to also quite painfully, instinctively, urinate - please remember the seating situation here -

Monika is exhausted.

And ill, clearly. She needs regular rub-downs with (admittedly relieving) skin cream, and medicated baths, and  _ rinses _ because of course she can’t actually pee  _ without _ that happening because, something something, universe crowing at her. Sick and exhausted and inexplicably physically altered is a hell of a way to be introduced to a confusing new reality, much less one that she could be  _ trapped _ in. Everything is just so...

...  _ so... _

She wants to hide under her blanket (which she is quickly realizing is her  _ one possession) _ so much that the realization is nearly enough to make her cry.

But of course,  _ that _ doesn’t happen until she pushes herself back to sitting up, and really actually  _ sees _ herself in the full-length mirror. Sees splotty skin, red-rimmed eyes, starved-looking cheeks; sees weaker, thinner arms, a more  _ petite _ figure, a strange irritation around what must be the place where the smell’s supposed to be. 

She— doesn’t even  _ look _ like herself.

* * *

_ That’s _ how Sayori finds her, crying. Hiding from her reflection behind a fuzzy green  _ baby blanket. _ Sayori’s only response is a concerned noise, crouching down to brush away Monika’s tears with her thumbs - bumping their foreheads so affectionately that another lump rises in Monika’s throat, a shiver up her back. Nobody— this isn’t  _ right. _ Nobody is supposed to  _ hold _ her like they do, like these familiar-but-unfamiliar people, faces of former not-quite-friends. She doesn’t know what to  _ do _ with it, doesn’t know what they  _ want. _ Still can’t find it in her to pull away.

“W—  _ Why.” _

“Eh?”

“W-W, W—  _ hy,” _ Monika whimpers, “‘re you s-so  _ nice. _ To m-me.”

“Oh, sunshine,” Sayori says, mouth shaping into a compassionate frown. Monika has asked this before and her collected answers have been perplexingly  _ kind, _ nothing but  _ ’why, you’re so very easy to be nice to, darling’ _ and  _ ’what, do i really look like i’d be mean to someone like you?’ _ and that’s not the answer - not the clarification that she’s looking for. She searches Sayori’s face, maybe looking just a touch too desperate, because next she says this:

“I don’t know who would leave such a sweet little one like you out there all alone, but— they were wrong, okay?”

And perhaps she takes Monika’s shocked countenance as a signal, not slowing her soothing strokes down Monika’s cheeks.

“We’re not going to hurt you, sweetheart,  _ Monika _ \- I  _ promise. _ Nobody should  _ ever _ have left you behind. We’re going to take  _ such _ good care of you, honey,  _ I promise _ nothing that horrible is going to happen to you ever again. You don’t have to worry about a thing.” She says, meaningfully, as Monika begins to  _ realize _ \- if not  _ exactly _ what has happened, then close enough of an approximation to, indeed,  _ worry. _ “We said we were going to help you, didn’t we? And we mean it. No matter what awful person left you there, or what awful place you were running away from,”

_ Oh no. _

“You don’t have to go back,” she soothes. “You’re  _ safe _ here, baby - okay?”

_ Oh,  _ **_no._ **

(Monika’s first order of worries is that Sayori may have mistaken her fresh round of tears, the boneless way she sags into her careful hug, for relief.)


	3. Chapter 3

_ ”Owwwwwww.” _

Monika whines - drawn-out and long-suffering. Yuri sighs, reducing the pressure of her thumbs’ massaging motion across Monika’s shoulders only the smallest fraction.

“I know it’s uncomfortable, honey,” she says, as she has been for the past ten minutes, “But we have to get it done.”

“It  _ hurts,” _ Monika grumbles - squirming forwards in Yuri’s lap (to no avail, being quite trapped by the woman’s firm grip and crossed legs) with a huff and red-spattered cheeks. “Stop it.”

“I can’t do that, sweetheart.  _ Please _ hold still.”

_ ”Whyyy.” _

“Because,” Yuri says, patiently, “your scent is  _ very _ backed up, and that’s  _ very _ not good for you. You don’t want to be sick twice over, do you?”

Monika shudders, both at the matter-of-fact reference to her new, strange body function  _ and _ the thought of being double-sick. If she never had to go back to that creepy-cheerful doctor’s office in her  _ life, _ it’d  _ still _ be too soon, and - eugh. Her  _ scent. _ She can tell that’s what Yuri’s doing even without looking, because she can actually smell  _ herself _ for once, and it’s terrible - even without the muscle pain and the vaguely  _ wet, _ welling sensation. 

“I feel like someone spilled coffee on me. I hate it,” she growls under her breath. 

“I’ve noticed,” Yuri replies - calmly, yes, but Monika still can’t help starting slightly. She is not exactly  _ used _ to having her mutters responded to. “Though I can’t say I understand why - I think your scent is lovely, honestly.”

“I’d rather  _ drink _ it than smell like someone dumped it all over my shirt.”

“Oh? You like coffee?”

“Who doesn’t?” Monika hmphs, crossing her arms defensively. “It’s one of the most popular drinks in the world!”

“Mm, I suppose you’re right...” Yuri hums. “I prefer tea, myself, but Sayori does like a sweet coffee now and again.”

“Is that why you smell like that.”

“Hm? No, of course not,” A chuckle, another firm dig of her thumbs. “If that were the case, I’d imagine my scent would be closer to black tea at this point.”

Monika, with no other real response to this, decides again on an  _ ”Owwwww.” _

“I’m sorry, darling,” Yuri says - again. “It might hurt less if you’d relax a bit...”

Monika humphs. The television in front of the couch was playing some ridiculous cartoon that she really couldn’t be any less interested in watching - Yuri had flipped it on before pulling Monika into her lap, maybe hoping it would be a distraction. Hardly so.

“Don’t you have any  _ actual _ channels?” She complains, squirming restlessly on Yuri’s lap and hissing in a short breath at another sharp dig.

“Like what?”

“I dunno, something interesting. A crime drama or something.”

“A  _ crime drama?” _ Monika can hear the amused smile in Yuri’s voice, and grits her teeth. “Oh, we wouldn’t want you having nightmares, now, would we?”

“Oh my god, it’s a  _ TV show,” _ Monika grumbles. “I’m not  _ five.” _

“You certainly aren’t,” Yuri replies, lightly.

(Monika falls silent for a moment, remembering, quite against her will, the doctor’s appointment.)

“... fine. A cooking show, or something. Literally anything other than  _ Super Wonder Cats.” _

“Oh, is that the name of this one?”

“Good to know I’m not the only one tuning this crap out,” Monika says, snappish. Yuri murmurs  _ ’Language, please’ _ behind her head as she reaches for the remote, flicks through the television channels.

“I’m  _ not—“ _

“I’m not swearing at  _ you, _ am I?” Yuri says. Patiently.

Outside of the temptation to say something even more loaded, Monika does not really have a response to that.

“Here we go,” Yuri says, landing on a channel where someone appears to be making an omelette. “You know, this is one of Natsuki’s favorite channels - I think it’s saved to the menu.”

“Good to know,” Monika mumbles, flinching again as Yuri returns her hand to her shoulders - but this time she rubs gentle circles at the base of Monika’s neck, sighing softly.

“Sweetheart, I  _ know _ it’ll hurt less if you relax a little. Could you please try for me?”

_ How am I supposed to relax? _ is what Monika would like to say.  _ I’m in a strange house with strangers and you’re jabbing me in the shoulders and making me  _ **_smell_ ** _ all over the place. What part of that sounds  _ **_relaxing?_ **

She doesn’t, of course. She  _ is _ in a hostage type situation, and she might be exasperated but she isn’t  _ stupid. _ Hunching forwards slightly, she lets out what— was  _ intended _ to be a huff, but really is more of a whimper.

“Oh, sweetpea.”

Yuri’s hands move away from her back, fingers gently landing atop Monika’s head and tracing through her hair - lightly at first, but slowly sinking further into long, coral-brown hair with each pass down.

“Just a few deep breaths for me? I know it’s hard,” she soothes, and Monika finds herself stuttering in a breath before she can think much about it. Not— because Yuri  _ asked, _ just because... because having her hair played with feels -  _ so _ nice. Another breath fills and exits her chest as she leans back into Yuri’s hands, nearly like a  _ sigh, _ and she has the oddest passing impression that Yuri is smiling.

“There you go,” Yuri murmurs, fingernails gently scratching at Monika’s scalp, trailing slowly down through her hair, and back around again and again and again. And again. “Nice and easy. Soft shoulders, soft back...”

Oh, god. This  _ was _ nice. And easy. Monika’s eyelids flutter as Yuri finds a  _ particularly _ nice spot, melty sort of noise escaping her - head tilting instinctively to the side and Yuri hums, rubbing Monika’s exposed neck with just as much loving attention as her head. 

“Soft shoulders,” she murmurs again, though Monika thinks if her shoulders were drooping any lower she might have a skeletal issue on her hands. “There you go. Isn’t this so nice?”

Monika makes a noise that is... appreciative. It even manages to sound a  _ little _ bit like a very,  _ very _ slurred  _ ’yeah’, _ which seems impressive, given the circumstances.

“So nice,” Yuri hums, agreement. “Nice and soft and relaxed. Such a good job, sweetheart,  _ such _ a good job...”

Something in Monika’s stomach feels warm and radiant at that - she hasn’t really  _ done _ anything other than sit still and let Yuri pet her, but the gentle praise is giving her some sort of light euphoria anyway. Yuri brushes Monika’s hair back over her shoulders, Monika just now slowly registering that she could hardly smell anything other than the soft jasmine scent Yuri carries, before pulling her back up to rest back against Yuri - blinking glassily at the TV.

When Yuri’s hands start to move against her shoulders again, it does not hurt even half as much as it had before - outside of light, intermittent pinches, it felt more like a deep and soothing massage than the sore torture from before. Monika blinks hazily, sighing in and out and noticing Yuri’s scent now  _ quite _ masked her own, gently enveloping her and making her feel very,  _ very _ nice, and soft, and relaxed. Very,  _ very _ at ease with being sat on Yuri’s lap. 

“... y-you, umm,” says Monika, nearly dazed, “Smell nice.”

“Why, thank you,” Yuri says, melodically. “Much nicer than black tea, I think...”

Monika ‘mms’ agreeably, sighs happily at another nice, deep push into her shoulders. 

“Mmhm... you smell very nice, too,” Yuri continues, sincerity in every inch of her voice. “Warm and sweet and cozy, like a little coffee shop in the winter.”

“Oh,” murmurs Monika - she hadn’t thought about it like  _ that. _ The way Yuri put it, it sounded... nice, and - another content feeling blooms inside her as she slowly meanders around to realizing that Yuri  _ liked _ the way she smelled. That seemed important, felt soothing. 

“Mmmhmm,” Yuri draws out the affirmation, keeps rubbing Monika’s shoulders in that wonderful lovey way. “I think it’s becoming one of my favorites. Cozy little caramel coffee Monika,” Nuzzles her nose into the back of Monika’s head, a light giggle ringing out of her (surprisingly) at the sudden touch.

“Cozy,” Monika parrots, feeling awfully much like that. “Nice.”

“Cozy and nice,” Yuri murmurs, slipping her hands down from Monika’s shoulders to lightly grasp one of her wrists - Monika is now all but being hugged from behind, Yuri’s chin resting over her shoulder, and she thinks rather dizzily that she should like to be held like this forever, maybe, or at least a  _ lot. _ “Such a good job, baby, doing such a good job.”

“Good job,” she mirrors, squirming as Yu, Yuri...  _ Yuri _ presses her thumbs into Monika’s wrists, rubbing nice, deep circles, warmth radiating into her fingers and palm and arm. This was  _ nice. _ This was  _ so nice, _ being held and warm and massaged so nicely, Yu... ri’s gentle voice going on in her ear about how good she was and how nice she smelled and how happy Yuri was to be holding her, how warm and sweet and little and cuddleable she was...

(The back of her mind snags a bit, just barely, on one of those words - but then  _ (big safe crooning hugs love) _ rubs into her wrist again, and Monika smells like coffee and jasmine and happy, protected and warm and relaxed, and forgets, in a single sigh, all about it.)


	4. Chapter 4

“S— She’s okay? Natsuki?”

Natsuki sighs, closing the door to Monika’s... well. Sayori’s room, currently containing an extra futon for Monika - carefully behind her.

“Voice down, mother hen. I just barely got her to doze off,” She mutters, stepping over to the table and taking a heavy seat on the cushion beside Yuri. “But besides a sore throat...  _ and _ a stomachache...  _ and _ probably an incoming caffeine rush and crash...  _ and _ some bruised pride...” 

Yuri stares quietly down at the table, wincing with each announced item.

“... she’ll probably be fine.” Natsuki finishes, before leveling a completely deadpan look to the woman beside her. “Yuri, what the fuck were you thinking handing the baby a cup of coffee.”

“I—“

Yuri takes a steadying breath, worrying the legs of her sweatpants beneath the edge of the table.

“She had informed me that she  _ enjoyed _ coffee,” She says, uncertainly. “In... no uncertain terms...”

“I bet.”

“Natsuki, you  _ know _ I— tend to take people at their word,” Yuri murmurs, sounding bruised. “I... neither anticipated her reaction to be negative, nor— so immediately  _ retaliative.” _

Natsuki sighs - again - and reaches for one of Yuri’s hands.

“I know that. Look, I know  _ even _ if the idea was kinda stupid in hindsight, you wouldn’t have tried to hurt the kid on purpose.” She scoffs. “If you wanted there to be anything left of you once me and Sayori caught wind.”

Yuri stays quiet. She looks  _ troubled, _ intensely so, and... while Natsuki wouldn’t be thrown if this was all because of the unfortunate mishap, she’s quite fairly certain there’s something weighing on Yuri even beyond that.

“... why would... why would she so strongly insist that— it was one of her favorites, if...” Is what she finally says.

_ If _ indeed. Natsuki squeezes her hand, giving a wince of her own.

“... I think I might have a bit more information about that,” She says. Carefully. “Actually.”

Yuri looks over immediately, a mixture of acute concern and curiosity written all over her features, and Natsuki... sighs.

* * *

* * *

_ ”It  _ **_is_ ** _ my  _ **_stupid favorite!”_ **

Natsuki had winced even more then, hearing Monika’s cry sound not only  _ anguished, _ but also pretty hoarse. Yuri’s shaky retelling of the shortly prior events were then likely near-totally accurate: the poor kid  _ had _ shotgunned a full, barely-on-this-side-of-not-hot coffee. Natsuki’s own throat was feeling raw just thinking about it - and that’s even before adding the quiet sobs to the terrible mix. Carefully,  _ very _ carefully, she reaches a hand down under Sayori’s bed to rest it gently over one of Monika’s fists (seemingly balled in her security blanket, which was at least a small reassurance).

Now that... that’s an interesting assertion for a Little - not well-known for their high tolerance to bitter flavors - to make. Natsuki knows very well that a classification isn’t a one size fits  _ everything _ kind of deal (her own stature attests rather well to that), but... that particular intolerance was, according to Yuri’s description at any rate, still perfectly accurate. People’s faces don’t tend to  _ crumple _ when met with their self-admitted favorite foods.

“It’s your favorite,” Is what Natsuki finally chooses to say. Monika audibly sniffles, sputters out a  _ ”Yes” _ that Natsuki nods to, even though Monika can’t see much more than her knees at the moment.

“... okay,” She says. Agrees. It wouldn’t do her that much good to shoot the kid down when she’s already this upset, would it? “That’s why you drank it so fast?”

She’s not surprised that the Little under the bed takes some time to reply - if not to recollect her thoughts, then at least to let her poor throat recharge. This is quite possibly the worst circumstances to be having any sort of drawn out conversation in, now that she’s thinking about it. 

“... n-no,” Monika hiccups, quietly. “Y-Your— your coffee’s  _ d-disgu, usting.” _

... huh.

“Our coffee?” Natsuki asks, slightly confused. “Do you not like that kind? We don’t really keep a  _ lot _ on hand, but—“

“W-Where,” Monika cuts in, sucking in a deep, watery breath, “Where  _ I _ c-came from, hh, c-coffee didn’t  _ taste—“ _

She coughs, painful-sounding, and Natsuki squeezes her hand with a wince.

“L— Like—  _ shit,” _ She wheezes out, and... Natsuki wasn’t a firm hand on the pottymouth on a  _ good _ day, let alone a goddamn terrible one, and she lets it pass without a word.  _ ”Your s-stupid coffe— e—” _ _

Well, probably don’t let her get herself all riled up with that, either. She  _ does _ have to at least be responsible. Natsuki cuts her off, quickly, with another curious statement.

“Okay, well. Uh.. where  _ do _ they make coffee that Littles can stomach?”

_ ”I’m NOT—“ _

Oh, god. Wrong thing to say,  _ horrid _ coughing fit. 

“I’m sorry,” she says - she’s not very good at soothing, really, but she  _ tries, _ letting every ounce of concern into her voice that she possibly can, even if it’s not quite all that she feels. “I’m sorry, you’re— okay, breathe, please try to breathe... okay...”

Okay. Okay. A long moment passes but the Little manages it, a breath and then two and then another few, back to a rhythm. Okay.

“... can you please come out from under the bed?” Natsuki asks, as softly as she can. “You don’t gotta go back out in the sitting room, or anything. You don’t even have to sit up. You - you can just come lie down.”

“...”

Monika breathes (audibly - painfully) for a second, then two. Then a few.

Then slowly, very slowly, peels herself out from under Sayori’s bed. She looks  _ exhausted, _ which is kind of a feat for a kid who just ingested so much caffeine - Natsuki has no idea when  _ that’s _ going to hit, but Monika is at least limping towards her own little futon, so maybe she’ll pass out before it gets the chance to hook in.

(Or maybe everybody’s going to be dealing with the  _ crankiest baby in the universe _ in an hour or so when she gets woken up early and finds out she can’t fix that by falling back asleep, which. Seems most likely.)

“There you go,” Natsuki sighs as she helps the sniffling kid into her bed - drawing up the covers and everything, which  _ does _ at least keep her from shivering as much. Oh, Jesus, she was probably gonna get the shakes, too, wasn’t she?  _ Yuriiiii. _ Of all the things to give...

“I’m not,” Monika whispers - hoarse as all hell and tired and shuddery but, still, fighting through  _ all _ of it to tell Natsuki this with no uncertainty. None. “L— Little. A Little, I’m— I-I’m  _ not.” _

Natsuki, caught  _ remarkably _ off-guard, doesn’t have much of an answer to that.

What kind of answer  _ can _ you give to someone when they state that kind of thing so  _ severely? _ You could tell the kid was Little from damn near a mile away - it was in every molecule of her scent to the point where that was pretty much how they had even found her in the first place. 

She must have seen the confusion on Natsuki’s face, because she grimaces, moves to  _ clarify _ herself.

“I’m n— not from... from here,” She forces out, gestures weakly to - everything. “I’m  _ not, _ l-like you, I, I’m  _ not.” _

“Whoa, whoa,” Natsuki says, holding out her hands placatingly. “What do you mean by that, sugar? Not from here? This city?”

“This,” Monika says, weakly, _urgently,_ “This—  _ world.” _

And for a second, all Natsuki can do is stare.

* * *

* * *

“...  _ what?” _ Yuri says, looking rather shocked. Natsuki turns her mulling gaze to the wall across from them.

“Yeah. What indeed.” She mutters, tapping her fingers on the tabletop.

“She—  _ surely _ she wasn’t being entirely truthful?”

“Well... duh,” Natsuki sighs, “That kind of thing’s a pure fantasy. But... but she  _ really _ believes that’s what’s up. Not Little— not even  _ from this world, _ as she decided to put it.”

“That’s absurd,” Yuri murmurs. “That’s— patently absurd. Why... how...” 

She takes a little breath, distressedly.

“Natsuki, what on  _ Earth _ could cause someone to possess such a notion?”

And Natsuki knows the Yuri-ese translation for that one:

_ What in God’s name happened to our baby to make her  _ **_genuinely believe_ ** _ she’s fallen out of some  _ **_alternate dimension?_ **

And truthfully, Natsuki has... no idea.

“Nothing good, I can tell you that.” Is what she settles on. Frowning into the middle space, thinking about... “... god. No papers. No belongings. And she thinks she’s not even...”

“... do you think... whoever it was that left her in...”

Natsuki’s hand crushes into a fist.

“Better not,” she growls, but - lowers her head to the table. “... but probably.”

“Ohh. Oh god.”

They pass like that, for a bit, in silence; Natsuki’s head on the table, Yuri’s buried in her opposite hand. It’s a lot. It’s a  _ whole _ lot, and they aren’t even the people truly and deeply  _ convinced _ of the utterly nonsensical claim.

Eventually, though, someone says something. They  _ have _ to.

“... I think when she wakes up,” Natsuki says, “You gotta go say sorry. So she doesn’t think that, I dunno, that you were... setting her up, or something.”

“Yes,” Yuri says, faintly. “Oh, she’s going to feel even  _ worse _ now...”

“You didn’t mean to,” Natsuki mumbles. “I think— I  _ think _ she’ll be able to tell. If you meant it, you’d gloat. And you’re not.”

“...”

“...”

“... Natsuki, what are we going to  _ do?” _

“I...”

Natsuki sighs. Again. Tips her head forward with frustration, worry, confusion -

“I think we’re gonna be taking care of a crashing baby. And we’re gonna be telling Sayori when she’s home. And...” 

Squeezes her fingers together.

“... and we’re gonna try. As hard as we can,” she says. 

Yuri... nods.

And the noise of the room, for however long, fades to nothing but the near-silent tick of the wall clock.

* * *

Monika has a tummyache.

_ Still. _ That’s unfortunate. That’s rather upsetting, actually - even though she kind of knew taking a nap wouldn’t solve the issue of her newly very sore throat, she had hoped that at  _ least _ she wouldn’t feel so nauseous by the time she stirred, blinking blearily into the dimmed surroundings of Sayori’s bedroom.

_... ugghhh... _

A  _ tummyache. _ She has a stupid tummyache, from drinking a completely normal cup of normal stupid French-pressed coffee. Way too  _ fast, _ sure, but she’s drunk worse and far quicker and not felt even half as bad for it - she can practically  _ hear _ this universe laughing its ass off at her for what feels like the millionth time. 

And it… and it didn’t even  _ taste _ right.

That was worse than the sore throat, the churning stomach - even the tremors she’s noticing starting to run up her limbs, her back. Fuck the  _ consequences, _ she’s dealt with worse  _ consequences. _ But she didn’t even get the slightest  _ fraction _ of enjoyment out of what was— what  _ still is _ her favorite  _ fucking _ drink, one of the few things she could always count on to, if not cheer her up totally, to at least be a small source of comfort in an otherwise menacingly hopeless world. She remembers going through  _ weeks _ before where her only semblance of inner peace came from a warm mug and a quiet room in the twenty minutes, maximum, she would have to herself—

And she had practically  _ vomited _ in the fucking cup Yuri had laid out for her.

As if she’d reached into the cabinet under the sink and licked a fucking dishwasher tablet, stuck a sugar-dip stick into straight industrial bittering agent. She’s  _ genuinely _ surprised she didn’t burst into fucking tears on the spot just from  _ shock, _ nevermind any wounded feelings. There hadn’t been  _ any _ feelings in that moment, she doesn’t think - nothing any further than that sudden paralysis of utter horror, total reflexive disgust,

And then she’d realized that Yuri was  _ looking at her. _

Fuck.

_ Fuck. _

She couldn’t make out any expression; all she knew was that Yuri was _looking_ at her, had surely seen her cringe and heard her gag, and— she already handled her with such stupid _kid gloves,_ whether or not she wanted to admit it, whether or not _any_ of them ever seemed to acknowledge exactly _what_ they were treating Monika like whenever she managed to call it out. And for fucking _once_ it seemed like she hadn’t. Like she’d decided to treat Monika for one fucking second like she’d spent just as long as any of them getting kicked around by the world and could be trusted to, _if nothing else,_ know what kind of _stupid_ ** _fucking drink_** she’d like to have from the store.

And she was fucking gagging on it.

Monika knew exactly what she looked like: some stupid  _ kid _ who saw someone drinking something and decided it must be  _ great, _ completely unprepared for the reality of an acquired taste. Hell, a kid is fucking pushing it here - more like a  _ dog. _ A stupid fucking animal cringing away from a bite of the meal it’d begged for.

Oh, Yuri probably tried to say  _ something. _ This Yuri is nowhere near as silent as the one Monika used to simultaneously occupy an empty classroom with  _ (hang out with _ seemed too familiar of a term, really), unfortunately for herself - Monika wasn’t interested in hearing whatever cruel fucking thing she had to say, anyway. She was gripped by the fleeting idea that Yuri  _ did this on purpose, _ even, a new stupid  _ trick _ like the fucking pacifier, had dumped a tablespoon of  _ salt and vinegar _ into the cup before she’d pushed it Monika’s way all smiles and—

Monika didn’t care that it tasted like fucking garbage (even though it  _ smelled _ just fine it smelled normal this  _ can’t be normal) _ or that her tongue was prickling in her mouth or that the cup was very nearly  _ too _ warm in her hands.

Monika was  _ not - was  _ **_not_ ** _ - _ she was  _ not _ going to stand there and let Yuri think she was some kind of idiot fucking  _ child, _ in over her head.

Monika took one breath,

And tipped the  _ entire _ cup’s worth of bitter,  _ hot _ coffee down her throat at once.

...

And is sorely, literally, regretting it.

Blinking herself out of the memory is almost worse than blinking herself awake. Fuck. What had she been  _ thinking? _

... well, a fat lot of nothing-and-rage, mostly, in that order. But what did she have to show from that? A burned-up throat and a stomach full of bile and the shakes. Maybe even a pissed-off captor - Monika  _ had _ slammed Sayori’s door very brusquely, and the person who’d eventually wandered in to prod at her surely hadn’t been Yuri - fuck, she probably  _ had _ pissed her off.

What a  _ miserable _ idiot she was. 

She thinks for half a second that maybe she could just lay low for awhile but, come on now, she was literally sleeping on a hideaway in  _ someone else’s room. _ Had been sleeping. Was probably not about to be getting back to that, judging by the intensity of her tremors and the flutterthudding that her heart had decided to start. Monika grimaces, burying her fingers in her green blanket and pushing it into her face, hoping beyond  _ belief _ to feel even a sliver of relief but - no. Sure, it was feather-soft and sure, she was very attached to it (she’s just about given up pretending she didn’t care about the one thing in the  _ universe _ that seems to belong to herself alone), but...

Monika’s heart rate spikes uncomfortably, even moreso than it has been. Her mouth feels suddenly dry.

_ What if they were going to take it away? _

Isn’t that what happened to people who made life harder for those in power over them? Punishment. They got things  _ taken _ from them, and - and this is all she  _ has. _ She doesn’t even have her own  _ clothes _ to revoke, let alone some kind of privilege. She has a blanket. She only has a blanket. 

Monika’s grip tightens, painful shudder running straight up through her stomach to her chest. M-Maybe they’d figure out something else to get rid of. The bed, or something - make her sleep in the corner, on the floor. Standing up, even. She could do that, probably - maybe - she could at least  _ try, _ right? Right. Maybe she could hold onto her blanket so hard they’d consider it a waste to even try fighting her for it and would just go straight to that instead. Hell, maybe they would even hi

Monika squeezes her eyes shut tight as another rush of heartbeats floods her ears, pushes her thoughts right down into a terrified ocean of static, and she buries her face in her blanket and  _ sobs _ but her blanket really only smells like her right now and she smells like— well—  _ disgusting. _ Bitter and shaking and  _ scared. _

She thought she had kept her cries quiet - she  _ tried _ to - but there’s indistinct voicelike noises far away outside the door and, please, no no no no not like this. Please. She can’t be  _ crying _ too, she can’t -  _ please ignore her _ \- please,

The door creaks very slightly when it swings open, and Monika loses

_ ”Oh, honey— that’s not a nice good morning, is it,” _

All hope 

_ ”S— Sweetheart? Sweetheart, are— okay, okay. Big— deep breath, baby, you’re okay—“ _

In an instant.

_ ”Deep breath. Deep breath, like this— there you go. Can you feel that? Big, big breath. In... out. There you go...” _

...

Monika isn’t entirely sure when, or how, her brain flickers back online and starts to inform her of her surrounding situations. She’s laying on... 

_ In... out. _

Someone’s... 

There’s a hand trailing through her hair, and she smells like— Yuri. She’s laying on Yuri, her head moving very slightly up and down with each breath she takes - breaths that she’s, oh. Mirroring. Not really thinking about it.

She’s laying on Yuri and her hand is still fisted in her blanket, and Yuri seems to be making no moves to rip it out of her grip - Yuri seems to be making no moves to be doing anything, actually, besides slowly stroking Monika’s hair and murmuring something as incomprehensibly soothing as it was unintelligible. 

Maybe... she thought Monika was asleep? No, it would probably be easier to take what she wanted if she were, wouldn’t it? Monika shudders. She wishes she  _ were _ asleep, but she knows that’s not going to happen any time soon.

“Oh,” Yuri sighs, sounding - sounding  _ relieved _ as Monika shifts, stretches fractionally with trembling limbs - why? “Oh, darling,  _ there _ you are. Oh,”

She starts to sit up - slowly,  _ carefully, _ bringing Monika up with her so gently it almost looked like she was afraid she might  _ break. _ That wasn’t...  _ entirely _ new, really. They’ve all been so ridiculously soft-handed around Monika’s rash-ravaged body. But... but this is somehow even more tentative a touch than  _ that. _ What was...

Monika looks up, once Yuri’s finished seating them both - and every question in her head slows to an abject halt when she sees  _ tears _ brimming in her eyes.

“I’m— I am  _ so sorry,” _ She whispers, sounding near to  _ heartbroken, _ “I’m  _ so, so sorry, _ Monika— I— I didn’t  _ know, _ I wouldn’t have— I wouldn’t have brought it if I did. I’m  _ so sorry.” _

W... Why was Yuri... apologizing? Monika’s face must be the absolute picture of confusion for how lost she feels -  _ Yuri _ didn’t do anything wrong,  _ Monika _ did. Yuri took a perfectly reasonable assertion that Monika liked coffee and... brought... her a coffee.  _ Monika _ was the one who’d gagged on it and choked it down too fast in a fit of utter indignance at— at  _ herself. _ Yuri didn’t... 

_ It’s fine, _ is what Monika thinks her response to that should be. It’s— well, it’s not  _ fine, _ but it’s not Yuri’s  _ fault, _ is what that means. It’s  _ Monika’s _ fault. And she opens her mouth to say—

_ It’s fine. _

...

_ It’s okay, you didn’t— _

...

_ I’m— _

”Oh,  _ sweetheart,” _ Yuri says, quiet and aghast and all the more tearful, “Your poor throat, oh—  _ honey—“ _

Monika cups a hand over her neck, swallowing awkwardly (and, god,  _ painfully) _ as she realizes that she isn’t— she can’t  _ say _ anything. Her voice is buried under whatever abrasions her throat’s suffered from today, hot liquid and sobs and hyperventilation and wheezing arguments, and nothing more is going to come out for awhile. 

And Yuri, who hadn’t even tried to hurt her in the first place - who’s left Monika’s blanket safe and intact, despite Monika’s unpleasant behavior - Yuri is  _ crying _ because she thinks that this is all somehow her fault. Worried and  _ guilty _ over Monika’s own, dumb,  _ very _ self-inflicted injuries.

That’s not...

... that’s not  _ right. _

Monika looks up at her— nervously. Maybe...  _ maybe _ she’s gauging this wrong, she admits to herself. Maybe this is a  _ bad idea. _

But Yuri is... crying. And Monika can’t... talk. And she can’t  _ perfectly _ remember, but— 

~~ (Sayori was always better at this kind of thing than her, so she watched her — not that she was ever needed when Sayori was around, not that she was needed  _ ever, _ but Sayori didn’t have to say anything all she had to do was,) ~~

Monika wraps shaky arms around Yuri’s torso, and squeezes. 

Yuri goes very, very still for a moment. Monika is briefly terrified that she had (probably, definitely, as usual) indeed made a complete misjudgement,

But Yuri’s arms circle warmly around her in turn, and Monika can feel her press a wet cheek to the top of Monika’s head as a tiny sob shakes loose from her chest.

“I’m  _ sorry,” _ She murmurs again, “I am. We’re— we’re going to be  _ so _ much more careful now, I swear...”

... well... she didn’t really  _ have _ to be. But Monika would be lying if she tried to say with any confidence that she was very surprised, in the end, that the takeaway was to be  _ even more cautious _ with her than before - even if just the thought is already dragging on Monika’s nerves.

... but...

... but she didn’t take away her blankie, either.  _ So, _ Monika thinks, as Yuri gently pulls away, leans to bump against Monika’s forehead (Monika shivering as usual) -  _ I... guess it could be a lot worse. _

“Sweet baby,” Yuri sniffles, smiling weakly as she presses a kiss to the bridge of Monika’s nose. “Let’s... let’s go get you something for your sore little throat, hm?”

And this is at least starting to become familiar; being lifted and tucked against someone’s neck, murmured to comfortingly as she was taken somewhere to do something. At least the smell of Yuri’s neck is slowing the racing of her heart a fraction of a percent - at least her blanket is still here, and still pressed against her cheek, and still  _ hers. _

And Yuri is saying something about a cough-drop- _ lollipop _ \- which certainly could sound worse.

* * *

_ Monika can tell - like, can  _ **_almost measure_ ** _ the sheer volume of sugar in this drink, not even counting the milk (definitely more than one or two splashes) or the chocolatey-caramelly-vanillaey syrup (genuinely might be an entire bottle of each). There  _ **_has_ ** _ to be whipped cream in it, too, somewhere under the lid, which brings the dairy count even ludicrously higher. _

_... but it still smells like coffee - and the flavor on her tongue, while near-cataclysmically sweet, still has that trace of a warm, dark center, a hint of familiar comfort. _

_ Sayori giggles, beaming proudly as she passes the cup, straw and all, into Monika’s waiting hands. _

_ “Awww, see? I  _ **_told_ ** _ you,” she hums, flashing a wink, “This kind is  _ **_way_ ** _ yummier than that fifteen-shot junk you ended up with the other day!” _

_ Yuri sighs behind the other side of the kitchen counter, rolling her eyes fondly at Sayori’s declaration - bygones are bygones, though, and Monika is admittedly more interested in her drink than in glancing over her shoulder to make sure Sayori wasn’t saying too much,  _ **_too much._ ** _ It was probably... fine, she thinks, kicking her legs absentmindedly against the legs of the tall counter-chair. _

_ “Yeah, and, guess what! In the summertime, this place goes all out, they make stuff like  _ **_milkshakes,_ ** _ and  _ **_ice cream,_ ** _ and it’s  _ **_sooooo good!_ ** _ You know, you’ll be allll better by then - we could go out and see the biiig ice cream machine, and have lunch, and...” _

_ (... Monika starts tuning all that out, uncomfortable fizz forming in her stomach at the familiar mentions of summertime - still so far away - and lets herself fall into focus on sucking at her straw, instead. _

_ More peaceful.) _


End file.
